


Slow Going

by progical



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/progical/pseuds/progical
Summary: Five little chapters set after the night of their great team up, showing Huntress and Black Canary dancing around each other until they figure things out. Because why not?
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 84
Kudos: 460





	1. Chapter 1

They hadn’t spoken since taco night. (Technically it was also the night Roman Sionis died, but in Helena’s peculiar life experience going out with people for once and having fun was much more memorable than killing a dude. Or ten, for that matter.)

For a moment it had almost felt like the beginning of something, a true bond among awesome women, but in the end it had all fallen apart at her inability to figure out what the normal next step would have been. What do you do if there’s no other crisis that requires a team up? How do you keep in touch with somebody without coming off as needy? She honestly has no clue.

And not to mention that stupid fucking comment she made at some point during the evening.  _ I really like how you’re able to kick so high in those tight pants. _ WTF? Who even says things like that? It’s a small wonder Dinah didn’t laugh in her face and probably mostly due to her intoxicated state at the time, the urge to stand up and leave right then and there had been overwhelming. Who would want to spend time with such a weirdo?

How to make friends wasn’t one of the topics covered in her extensive training and as a result she isn’t really good at it, never had been. Up until recently she’d been quietly resigned to the prospect of a solitary life devoted to her unsavory work, and yet somehow she ended up standing in front of the Black Canary’s apartment door with clammy hands and a dry throat.

She doesn't have a good answer as to why, but before she can chicken out she knocks. Twice and a bit too aggressively. Too late to turn around now.

There’s some rustling inside. She listens closely as steps come closer and the locks are turned. Dinah opens up warily until she sees it’s her, then a large smile blooms on her beautiful face and she quickly undoes the chain to let her in. 

“Oh no, it’s the dreadful Crossbow Killer!”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Helena shoots back deadpan, but secretly glad to be welcome. “I can leave if you want.” 

“Come on in.”

As she enters the singer steps closer, almost entering her personal space for a hug maybe, but she must sense her uneasiness and quickly shifts to closing the door instead without calling her out on it. The small interior is a bit messy but clean and all the furniture looks second hand. There are deep blue embroidered curtains in the windows making the space feel like a natural extension of the woman’s bold and eclectic style. 

“So, what brings you around the neighborhood?”

Dinah herself is wearing a flowery kimono over a tank top and jeans, her braids falling freely down her shoulders. It’s a far softer look than she’d seen her in before, and yet it suits her just as well as the dress she wore to sing at the club.

Huntress awkwardly clears her throat. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Harley texted me the account numbers contained in the Bertinelli diamond, so I have access to my family’s fortune now.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised she wouldn’t keep the money for herself to be honest.”

Fair point. She shrugs. “Cass and her still got to pawn the diamond, which feels more like her style. I don’t think she and banks really mix well... if it’s not a robbery.”

“Of course.” Dinah chuckles and gestures to take a seat on her threadbare couch full of cushions, putting her in the difficult position to find a way to sit comfortably while feeling anything but. Helena’s not exactly a laid back person, a chair would be so much easier for her, everybody can sit in a chair.

That’s maybe what she likes most about the other woman, her seemingly effortless ease in interacting with the world. Dinah always seems cool and relaxed, knows what to say in every situation and probably never had to practice her lines in the mirror. That and her incredible figure she can’t help but notice when she sinks down beside her and props a leg up on the coffee table.

Focus girl.

“Anyway… I thought you could use this,” She takes out a folded check and holds it towards the Black Canary. “Just to get back on your feet since your gig for Black Mask is dead and your car got stolen.”

She takes it and her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow, that’s a lot of money.”

“A few thousand bucks felt appropriate in the situation.”

“It’s 10k, but whatever you say, Hot Shot.”

The casual nickname catches her off guard and she can feel some heat rising to her cheeks. Is this what blushing feels like? Very embarrassing. Hoping she’s not noticeably flushing she tries to turn and casually look out the windows or something, thankfully Dinah keeps looking down at the piece of paper.

“I won’t stand here and pretend I couldn’t use a little bit of a rainy day fund right now, I want to pay you back though. It could take some time, but I will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have more than I know what to do with now.”

“Must be nice.” 

Not really. It’s all that’s left of her family, but she doesn’t feel any emotional attachment to the cash. It can’t bring them back and neither could her vendetta, it’s all just cheap substitutes for the life she was robbed of by a hail of bullets. She is alone and the only thing she can do is keep moving forward, but that feels like a downer thing to say.

“It’s not Bruce Wayne money or anything.” She clarifies instead, “After the transfer went through I got myself a new bike and better body armor, that’s pretty much all I could think of to be honest. This way I can help you guys out a little at least.”

That makes the Canary laugh for some reason, clear and melodic. Usually Helena’s first reaction would have been to take offense, but the sound gets her sidetracked, even more so when the other woman leans forward and rests a hand on her arm.

Her brain short circuits.

“You are something else. Thank you.” Their eyes meet and they just pause there for a moment, before she goes on. “I got to ask about something though. I kinda knew about your charity tour already, Renee told me you swung by hers two days ago so I was waiting.”

Shit, she knows about that.

“Yeah, sorry…” She stammers, “I mean, I meant to come here right after, but something came up in the meantime and I got distracted. I… had to run down some things.” 

More like she was gathering her nerve, because Dinah makes her anxious. Being close to her particularly, or when she looks at her at all. It’s a problem.

She may also have changed into and out of dozens of outfits before settling on what she was wearing now. Dark jeans and a black hoodie, not exactly mind blowing, but at least it feels safe with the familiar weight of a few throwing knives added to the wrist.

Everybody has their own coping techniques.

“You don’t have to apologize! I was just wondering if you would come by, you know?”

She nods dumbly, unsure what to say. “I did.”

“I see that. That’s good.”

Again there’s a lull, god is she awful at keeping a conversation going. Is she messing this up?

Suddenly the singer rises up from the couch. “I’m being a terrible host, do you want anything to drink? I have wine, water and juice I think. I’m not sure, let me check.”

“I…” 

She looks toward the door, starting to feel a little bit overwhelmed by the situation and her massive self doubt. People are best experienced in small doses she feels, and Dinah in particular takes a lot out of her. Before she can think up a suitable excuse though the woman in question jokingly shakes her head at her. 

“Come one, you can’t just plop a bag of money in my lap and bolt. It’s rude.”

Is it? She hadn’t thought of that. “Fine. Water would be nice.”

She’s more than aware that with anybody else she would have put up more resistance and not given a single fuck about being rude, but it’s pretty clear there’s something about the Black Canary that got under her skin and is screwing with her head. She would be worried if it didn’t feel so… nice. 

Did she ever use the world nice before in her life? She’s not sure, but it feels appropriate.

Being with Dinah Lance feels nice. 

“So what are you going to do now?” She asks from the kitchen, a subject the Huntress had been pondering herself in the last few days.

“Not sure... I’m pretty much done with the plan I had, everybody on the list is dead.” 

“Time for a new plan then? Maybe with a little less killing?” 

“Yeah. Maybe. But I’m not sure what that’s going to look like yet.”

The Canary comes back with two glasses and puts them down in front of them, giving her an encouraging smile. “Welcome to the normal people club, it’s all a mess if you don’t have a revenge plot to keep you busy. There’s no need to rush it however, just take some time for yourself.”

“That sounds awful.” She grimaces.

Dinah burst out laughing again, and this time even Helena cracks a smile.

“Did you just make a joke?” 

She gives her a non committed sound. “Maybe. Why?”

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Bertinelli. Did it physically hurt? Did you pull a muscle?”

“Hey. I’m a little bit emotionally stunted, so what? I’ve seen movies, I talk to people.” She hesitates. That is mostly a lie, but Dinah doesn’t need to know it. ”It’s not like I’m completely clueless, I know how to behave normally. Kind of.”

“So you are just a little bit clueless then...”

“Whatever. I’ve got other skills.” She huffs and crosses her arms defensively. 

“It’s cute when you get mad.”

_ Cute? _

“Please don’t say that ever again.”

“Why, afraid your assassin buddies will hear of it?”

She rolls her eyes at what that would look like. “They would have a field day.”

Dinah chuckles. “They sound like good people.”

“They are not. I mean, I like them of course, but they are by no definition good people.”

They’d opened their home to her, always been warm and welcoming even during the long months in which she had tried to escape or even hurt them, but at their core they were killers. Killers with whom she had shared most of her life’s accomplishments, killers that baked her birthday cake and taught her how to drive, but killers still.

That stark juxtaposition is something she will always have a hard time with, but she’s still grateful to them for the hospitality and the precious training that made her return home possible. 

Dinah must sense that she tripped over a sensitive subject, because she carefully backtracks. “Neither are we, strictly speaking. I just ment they seem fun.”

“I guess. They can be, but mostly it’s business. And by business I mean… bad stuff.”

As a lifelong Gothamite she doesn’t have to be told about the Bertinelli crime syndicate and its grizzly reputation. “I’ve heard the stories.”

“Yeah… I don’t plan to go into the family business, it’s what got them all killed in the first place. What I do now is not exactly safe either, but at least… You know, it’s better. I can be proud of it.”

The Canary looks at her with a look that’s hard to decipher, something soft and accepting that makes it hard to keep eye contact.

“What about the hero business? Seems like a pretty easy transition.”

“Me? Let’s not get carried away now.”

“I think you would be good at it. Just something to think about…”

“What about you?” She reaches for the water to stop herself from fidgeting.

“Fine, got it. Let’s change the subject.”

For some reason talking with Dinah gets easier over time, instead of harder like usual. She even goes as far as to tell her a few casual details about her current routine and an anecdote about her childhood, which for Helena is practically akin to baring her soul.

It’s a strange feeling to be somewhat known by somebody.

Even so the singer still carries the lion share of the conversation, telling her about Sionis’ strange obsession with masks, about that one time Harley Quinn may or may not have tried to drunkenly flirt with her to get over Joker and a hundred other silly anecdotes that make time literally fly by.

At some point her wristwatch starts beeping and she notices the sun is significantly lower on the horizon than when she arrived.

“Shit,” She clicks the alarm off. “I really have to go now.”

The other woman doesn't ask, but still gives her an inquisitive look she feels compelled to answer.

“I promised I would call home, Sicily I mean, so I have to mind the time zones. I have to fill them in on things or they’ll worry.”

“Mmh,” She nods, “Let me walk you out.”

It’s a very small apartment, they are at the door in no time, but then they both linger and neither opens it up. Helena’s brain for one is working overtime trying to decide what she wants to say before taking her leave. How do normal people do this?

“This was nice.” Twice in one day, and even stranger, she means it.

The warm smile she gets in return makes her feel like it was the right choice though.

“Yes, thanks for swinging by and for the money of course. When you do figure out what you want to do next call me please, I want to hear all about it and help if I can.” She takes a pen and scribbles something on the corner of a takeout menu, before ripping it off and handing it to Huntress. “Here’s my number.” 

Helena takes it and stares at it. “H-Have a good day.”

“You too.” She tells her with one last smile.

Later, even after she’s left the apartment and has driven away, she finds herself unable to rip her thoughts away from that scrap of paper. She turns it in her hand and looks at it for hours, committing the number to memory. “Call me.” She murmurs trying to hide a smile.

“She said  _ call me _ .”

What now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a lot of us had the similar ideas recently, but I guess tropes are tropes for a reason, they work :D

Her phone rings and it’s Helena, which is very strange. She never calls.

She has used the number Dinah gave her almost six weeks ago exactly once, to write a brief message and return the favor. Since then the singer’s seen her a few times in the news, or more accurately the Huntress’ handiwork taking out an assortment of criminals and scumbags, but there’s been no other contact between them.

And she was so sure there was something there...

Pushing that thought aside she picks up. “Hello?”

“Hey Dinah, sorry to call so late…” She starts casually, then pauses for a moment. “So I’m at home right now and I think I got stabbed in the back earlier tonight.”

“What!?” She stammers in surprise.

“Yeah... I hate to be a bother, but it’s in a really awkward position. I can’t get to it and it’s starting to feel like I might pass out, so I need you to come over and give me a hand if you can.”

“Y-Yes, yes of course, where?”

She’s already moving, picking up her keys, jacket and all the other stuff she might need. It takes her a few moments to even realize she should maybe start by putting on some shoes.

“It’s the green building on the corner between Orson and 16th, apartment 5. The spare key is behind a loose brick in the halway.” There’s some rustling and a wince. “Thanks.”

“I’m on my way, stay on the line with me.” Done lacing herself up she slams the door to her apartment shut and runs down the stairs towards the alley she parked her new car in. “Keep talking.”

The other woman gives her a weak laugh. “I don’t... I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. I think… I’m going to sit down now.”

“Yes sit, but stay with me ok? Stay awake and all that stuff.”

“Do you… like...” There’s a loud thud and the line goes silent. The phone must have fallen from her hand and down to the ground, she realizes.

“Helena? Are you there?” No answer.

Revving the engine she shoots out from her parking spot and into the busy streets.

On the way she’s tried Montoya several times, but the detective isn’t picking up, so she’ll have to handle this on her own. She pulls the key from its hiding spot and unlocks the modest unit Helena is renting. It’s a stark contrast to her own living arrangement, all spotless white walls and modern appliances.

There she finds her on the kitchen floor, close to an overturned chair and with a pool of deep red gathering around her unmoving body.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Fortunately you can learn a lot of things on youtube nowadays and there’s a family sized first aid kit ready under the sink. Following the thorough step by step process explained by an aging former green beret she cuts away Helena’s shirt until she comes face to face with the ugly wound and slips on a pair of disposable gloves.

“I hate you.” She tells the unconscious Huntress, “Why do you have to make me do stuff like this?”

After applying a very liberal amount of saline solution and gauze she finds a fancy emergency laceration kit that looks vaguely military to close the wound up far better than she ever would. 

“Cover the wound only on three sides, leaving one untaped. Air needs to be able to escape from one side of the bandage to prevent it from entering the pleural cavity in the chest. If air enters the pleural cavity, the lungs can…” She stops the video and focuses on applying the little adhesive straps like the packaging shows.

Finally done, she turns her over into a safety position and looks down at that stupid woman’s stupidly perfect abs. Who the fuck is this stupid?

“You better don’t die, or I swear I’ll kill you again myself. I don’t care how much you lift and how big your arms are, I’ll destroy you girl.”

Her breathing seems normal and her other wounds are all just superficial cuts and bruises, so that’s good. After cleaning some of the dried blood off with a wet cloth she contemplates what to do next. Ideally she should get her into bed, but there’s no way she can move the beefcake more than a few feet, so she ends up bringing over a duvet and pillows from the bedroom and roll her on it right where she is on the ground.

Montoya finally calls back maybe half an hour after she got there. 

“What’s going on Dinah? I have a dozen missed calls between you and the maniac, did you get into trouble without me? Need me to bail you out?”

So Helena tried Montoya first before calling her, which makes sense since she’s probably trained in this kind of stuff on account of her being former police, but it still stings a little bit for some reason. It’s not the time to think about it now though, so she skips over it. 

“Helena got stabbed, lost a fuckton of blood and passed out.”

“What the hell?” The joking tone disappears from Renee’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At hers. I patched her up and she’s sleeping it off.”

“Good. Good.” The detective repeats nervously, her mother hen instincts kicking in under all that though attitude and constant hangover. “Were you there?”

“No, she called me after you didn’t pick up I guess. I think she’s working solo.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“Can’t say I disagree.”

There’s some noises on the line as Renee steps away from where she was and finds a more quiet corner to talk. 

“Listen, do me a favor and stay there with her for a while, make sure she takes it easy. If we leave her to her own devices she’ll slap a band aid on it and get back to the streets as soon as she wakes up.”

Yes, that seems like something Helena Bertinelli would do.

“Why me?” She still protests more out of habit than anything else.

Renee huffs. “You’re already there and she listens to you. Plus I have a thing.”

“What thing?” She digs.

“Mind your own business.”

“Oh fuck you.”

That’s just how they usually talk with each other and doesn’t bother her at all, in fact Dinah can almost hear the smile in her voice. The only time she grows a little more serious is when she tells her, “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

After hanging up and while the dumbass is still passed out Dinah seizes her chance to do some snooping around. It’s not like she wants to invade Helena’s privacy, but the woman isn’t exactly an open book and who wouldn’t want to know her a little bit better?

Plus she’s bored.

At first there isn’t much to sink her teeth in, most of the furniture is empty and unused. Six pretty much identically outfits sit arranged on their hampers, mostly black and dark purple tones. The underwear drawer too is boringly utilitarian, would it kill her to have some nice lingerie? 

There’s a small desk with what looks like some kind of arrow maintenance kit spread out on it, and some knives, a whetstone and a gun stashed in there as well. She finds two books in Italian on the night table and convenience store body products in the shower.

It all seems an utter bust, until she looks under the queen sized bed and finds a small wooden box. Carefully opening the lid she finds it full of old newspaper articles and heirlooms, a small gold chain and a broken man’s watch jump out. Dinah unfolds the first clipping and read the bold headline: “Bertinelli Clan slain in their Gotham home”

Suddenly a cold chill descends on her fun, and she feels ghoulish and invasive.

She quickly puts the box back in its place and returns to the living room to play on her phone..

At some point Helena finally wakes up, very groggy and little dressed, just pants and the black sports bra she was wearing under her costume. Dinah does her best not to stare when she pushes the duvet off her and slowly lifts herself off the ground.

“Hi.” The brunette gives her a sleepy smile that makes her melt away.

“Hi.” The Canary mirrors her smile back dumbly.

“Thank you for helping me out.” She slowly stands up and leans against one of the stools by the kitchen counter, after a moment she takes a seat on it and starts examining her messed up face in the reflection of the oven. “I didn’t think they got me that bad at first.”

That reminds Dinah that in spite of everything she’s still mad about Helena’s recklessness and disregard for safety. She walks around where the woman is sitting at and brusquely puts some water down in front of her. “After losing that much blood you have to drink liquids.” 

“I do?”

“I had time to look it up while you were sleeping. There’s a lot of stuff you should be doing after being stabbed, but let’s start with something simple. Drink.”

She watches her drain the glass completely and immediately fills it up again gesturing her to keep going. “How are you feeling?”

After the second glass Helena takes a moment to evaluate the situation. “Well enough given the circumstances I guess...”

She wants to take a look at the dressing, but it’s just outside of her view making her turn comically on axis like a dog trying to catch his tail. Dinah tries really hard not to laugh at that and keep up her disapproving tone, but it’s a losing battle. 

“Just so you know, it’s probably going to scar.” She tells her feeling petty.

“Chicks dig scars, don’t they?”

She’s pretty sure that’s something Helena heard in a movie or tv show, but it’s still pretty funny so she huffs out a smile. “That’s the word on the streets…”

“Then I don’t care.” The Huntress shrugs cheekily.

A few beats of silence go by. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

She nods, sipping on her now third glass of water. 

“Why didn’t you call.” There’s no need to spend any more words than that, they both know perfectly what she’s referring to, it’s written all over Helena’s face. 

She stalls for a moment rubbing her face. “I… I don’t know.” 

The answer seems truthful, but Dinah isn’t in the mood to let her off the hook easily after all that so she keeps looking at her until she offers up more details. It takes her a few moments, but then she caves. 

“I just felt… I didn’t know what to say! I’m not good at this kind of stuff, really suck at it.”

That’s news to exactly nobody. “And?” She keeps pushing, trying to get to the bottom of it.

“And I don’t want to be a pity project.” Helena sulks finally.

_ What? What does that even mean?  _ All the annoyance is back with a vengeance. 

“Oh, so Renee is right, you really are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“A pity project? Did you fall on your thick head during your stay in Italy?”

“Hey!” She repeats, more forcefully.

“Just drink your fucking water.” Dinah castizes the other woman and walks off, but she’s not mad enough to leave her alone in her time of need. With limited options in the small apartment she opts to let herself fall on the couch and stare at her furiously from the corner.

Helena might not be sure what just happened, but she’s at least smart enough to leave her alone for a bit until she’s cooled off. After somewhat cleaning up the kitchen she decides she could use some of the same treatment and starts walking towards the bathroom.

“Hey, can I take a shower with this thing?” She asks cautiously.

“You have to keep it dry.” The singer calls back angrily rolling her eyes.

Nodding to herself she closes the door behind her and turns on the tap in the sink.

“Don’t get water on it!” Dinah yells again.

“I got it!” Sponge bath it is, but at least she can pull a clean shirt from the drier and put on some sweats. Wrinkling her nose she decides to start by brushing her teeth. 

When she comes out again a while later she’s starting to feel lightheaded and almost stumbles over a rug, just managing to hold onto the wall.

“You have to rest up and keep warm. Some sleep would be best.” Most of that momentary vitriol has drained out from Dinah’s tone, but she’s worried again, which feels almost worse.

“Thank you for your help, really,” Helena tries, “I can manage now.”

“Not a chance. Montoya told me to keep an eye on you.”

She opens her mouth, but is immediately shut down by the smaller woman. Some of that has to do with how tired she is, nobody does their best arguing in that state so she just vaguely gestures at her. “So you are going to just stay here and babysit me?”

“Right here.” The singer confirms, “A billionaire like you must have Netflix right?”

“I’m not a billionaire and I have not. I’ve never turned that TV on.”

“That’s all right, I can use my own account. Beer?”

Again, she shakes her head. “The fridge is empty.”

“You are a terrible host.”

The Huntress chuckles, carefully lowering herself to a seat. “Don’t I know it.”

“Well, I’m still staying.”

Well, that doesn’t sound so bad after all, she thinks, usually people inside her personal space would make her feel on edge, but Dinah’s presence is somewhat comforting. Even with all that back talking she’s doing. Whatever, she decides, “Can I at least stay up and watch something with you?”

Dinah gives her a long once over and tilts her head. “How people are afraid of you is beyond me.”

“I’m dangerous.” She informs her suppressing a yawn.

Helena is out like a light before they can even decide what to watch, so Dinah ends up ordering pizza and letting trashy reality tv run on the flat screen while she listens to her quiet snore. When she looks at the clocks it’s almost 5 AM and the birds are starting to chirp outside the windows announcing a new day.

“What the hell am I doing?” She asks herself as she carefully adjusts the duvet over the injured woman.


	3. Chapter 3

Somebody knocks at her door on a quiet evening in.

She looks through the peephole and all she sees is some stalks of celery poking out of a brown grocery bag. She’s a bit taken aback because the people living in her building aren’t usually the types for fresh produce, it’s more a food truck and ready meals kind of place. 

“Open up Dinah.” 

Helena? She frowns and unlocks the door.

“Hi.” The taller woman walks in past her with two of those bags filled to the brim and deposits them on her kitchen table.

Dinah checks out in the hallway to see if there’s more people coming, then closes up again. “What’s going on right now?”

“So,” The brunette begins, combing her unruly hair down with her hand, “I was made aware that I’ve not thanked you properly for saving my life that one time.”

“You mean last week?”

“Yes.” She nods sorting out the stuff in the bags. “Last week.”

One after the other she neatly puts out an assortment of different vegetables, a paper package held together with twine, pasta, spices, a labelless bottle of wine... 

“So you brought me groceries?”

She forcefully shakes her head. “No. I’m not really good at a lot of the normal stuff, but I can cook. So I’m going to cook for you. Do you have plans?” 

She’s honestly sorry for her social failings, it’s just her brain isn’t wired like that, she’s a bad person. No, that’s not right either. She’s not necessarily evil, even though the amount of bodily punishment that she deals out regularly may be problematic, it’s more like… she’s bad _ at being _ a person.

She is trying though, and today her way of trying is cooking Dinah Lance a meal.

“No…?” The singer answers tentatively.

“You sure? I can come back another time if you do. It’s no problem at all.”

“No, no, I’m free.” That’s not the issue at all. Thing is, all Dinah can think of right is… Is this a date? What she just said sounds very close to a date. Identical even.

_ Is this a date!? _

Apparently completely untouched by that thought Helena smiles at her, looks around her small kitchen and asks: “You do have a pan in here somewhere, right?”

After the initial shock of seeing the Huntress examining cooking utensils to sort out what she needs with the intensity of a general at the eve of battle, Dinah decides to just roll with it and plops down on a chair to see where this is going.

“What are you making?” She asks, craning her neck.

There’s salmon and fancy cooking creme, so they are definitely out of her usual depth here.

“Just a simple pasta, but food in the US is garbage anyway, so it’ll probably seem like something from a high end restaurant.” After saying that Helena looks over sheepishly from her knife drawer, probably realizing that sounded a bit harsh. “I just mean… Everything is overprocesses and sweet for some reason. Bread shouldn’t be sweet, it’s bread.”

Dinah chuckles at this new side of her she’s seeing.

“You are being extremely Italian right now.”

The brunette stops, seemingly deciding if that was a dig or not, but ultimately decides to let it slide and returns to the task at hand. “It comes and goes.” She admits with a shrug.

“So, do you cook often?”

“Not really, it takes a lot of time for just one person and I’m pretty busy.”

“Yes, about that…” The Canary probes, “What are you doing exactly? I thought you were done with your list, but you are still running around and messing with criminals.”

“Yes… I heard on the streets that some guys that were affiliated with the Bertinelli family once upon a time are now running this ugly trafficking ring and it feels like that’s not really the legacy I want my family to have around here.”

“So you are hunting them.” 

“Mmh.” She hums while slicing up some zucchini with what looks like extremely deadly accuracy. “I get that people will never have a positive memory associated with my parents, but the least I can do is take that trash out.”

Dinah grins at her. “See? You are doing hero stuff.”

Helena pointedly ignores her and keeps cutting, which feels like progress so she carries on.

“But going into things alone like this isn’t smart, you can get yourself killed. You almost did.”

She looks up for a moment and before she can decide against saying something, like she so often does, Dinah spurs her on. “What?”

“It’s just… Pulling somebody else with me would endanger them.”

Oh god, here we go again.

“So find somebody that knows their stuff.” The singer drones at her. “Know anybody like that maybe?”

“One or two people maybe.” She finally admits.

With the serious stuff out of the way they fall into a comfortable silence as Helena continues her meticulous prep, but after a while Dinah starts to feel useless just sitting there and gawking.

“Can I help with something?” 

“I don’t know, what can you do?”

“Not much.” She admits honestly. 

Helena gives her a soft smile, and nods towards a few pots and pans she’s stacked up near the sink for later use. “How about you give those things a quick wash? They look like they haven’t been used in a while.”

“Yeah, that… yes.” The microwave is pretty much the only thing she uses in the kitchen.

The brunette jokingly shakes her head at that, cleaning her hands with a cloth. For some reason this entire situation is doing wonders for her confidence, Dinah thinks, she appears calm and in her element. To be honest… it’s hot.

She is hot.

“After that you can open the wine if you want.”

She jerks to attention from her momentary lapse in focus. 

“Oh I can definitely do that.”

The bottle of strong red is from some small vineyard near where Helena was trained in Sicily, turns out Helena regularly gets big care packages from the old country filled with food and drink. 

“..from the assassins.”

“From my cousins, yes.” 

“That’s so weird.” Dinah laughs out loud, and it’s good natured enough that the other woman too has to smile.

“Yeah well, I’m pretty weird.” She acknowledges.

“Oh I’m starting to get that.”

“Like you are one to talk…”

“Hey, what does that mean?” She fakes offense pushing the other woman’s shoulder.

“You know.”

The conversation flows much more smoothly today, maybe because they are getting used to one another or because of the wine, but it’s great. They talk a bit about their day, about Helena’s recovery after the stabbing incident and end up on Dinah’s search for a new job.

“It’s not as fancy as Sionis’ club, but it also looks a bit less… murdery.”

“That’s a good start I guess. And they want you to audition?”

“Yes it’s a hustle, the owner wants to hear me sing with closed doors before he makes a decision. I thought it was some kind of power move or something slimy, but the other girls assure me he is very gay and very married, so I guess he's just particular.”

“Good, ‘cause otherwise I can always swing by there and have a word with him.”

“Easy there, tiger. No need.” Dinah’s more than capable of looking after herself, but she still appreciates the sentiment. Even more so when Helena realizes she may have shown her hand a bit too much and suddenly blushes awkwardly.

“Well, they would be lucky to have you.” She mumbles under her breath.

“That’s what I have been saying! They would!”

The brunette laughs at the confident outburst, but nods. “Yeah well, let me know how it goes.”

“I’ll put you on the list for my opening night.”

“Oh my god, this is great. You should come cook for me all the time.”

With all that talking it’s taken forever for the pasta to be finally ready, it’s rather late into the evening now and they are well into their third bottle of wine, a cheap store bought one Dinah had lying around in the pantry.

Helena shrugs, coiling up a healthy serving on her fork. “Maybe next time I’ll get stabbed we can try some lasagne.”

“Don’t you dare joke about that!” She yelps, pointing a finger right in her face.

Huntress just grins and holds up both hands in surrender.

“Asshole!”

“Just enjoy this, will you? I don’t do it for just anybody.”

There it is again, a throwaway comment that could mean so much more. Or not. Tired of the guessing game Dinah clears her throat and goes all in.

“You could just come by without life threatening injuries being involved, you know? Take a night off from time to time, watch a movie or something.” She hopes it sounds casual enough, the last thing she wants is to scare the other woman away.

“That sounds nice, but…”

“...but it’s not dark and broody enough for you.”

The brunette shakes her head. “That’s not what I was about to say.”

“Then what?”

“What I meant to ask is, don’t you have somebody more fun to hang out with? You know, people that have actually seen a movie that’s not mob related?”

She rolls her eyes. “That just means you won’t be picky when it’s time to choose.”

“I’m being serious.”

She could set her straight again, she considers, tell her there’s nothing wrong with her and to stop belittling herself, but honestly even looking past Helena’s self esteem issues… Nobody else comes to the singer’s mind, nobody she would rather spend time with, so why not be honest for a change?

“No, I haven’t. You’ll have to do.”

To her surprise Helena just accepts that, with a shrug and a smile.

“It’s your funeral.”

After doing the dishes Dinah insists to start her off on her cinematic education right away, before she can change her mind, so they settle in on the couch and watch Footloose. 

Helena loves every minute of it, even though she tries (and fails) to keep on a stoic facade. During one particular dance montage she even lets out a little squeak of delight and Dinah has a hard time not to burst out laughing, ending up with a painful coughing fit instead.

At that point the brunette slides closer and rubs her back until she can breath again, which is also pretty great, but far too soon the end credits start to roll on the screen.

They beat around the bush for a while, gather up the remaining stuff from the kitchen, but then there’s nothing left to do and they end up at the door to go their separate ways. 

“Promise me you will bring backup when you go out next time, ok?. Me, or Renee, or whomever.”

Helena’s not happy, but hangs her head and nods. “Fine, I promise. I’m on hold for a few days anyway until the wound heals up, then we’ll figure something out.”

“Good. And also that you will come back and cook again.”

“Anything else?” She chuckles.

There’s a pregnant pause as Dinah looks up to her.

Yes, so many other things.

But what are the right words?

“Just text me when you get home, ok?”

“Will do.”

In a sudden move Dinah reaches over and gives her a hug, which to Helena’s surprise isn’t terrible at all. They stay there for a few moments, then separate again.

“Have a good night.” She breathes with one last smile.

“You too.”

“Bye.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit different.

“You owe me.”

“I cook for you all the time!” Helena protests, the phone tucked in the crook of her neck while she adjusts the iron sights on her crossbow with a screwdriver. It has been banged up a bit during their latest scuffle with assorted bad guys and she was planning to stay in today and fix it.

“I saved your life dude, your fettuccine are pretty good, but you are not off the hook yet.”

Never let it be said that the Black Canary minces her words, she goes right for the throat. Usually Helena would consider herself impervious to this kind of blackmail, letting it roll off her back like nothing happened, but that requires you not to care. While she’s gotten better at handling it, it’s undeniable by now that she cares very much about Dinah's opinion on her. And about Dinah herself. Too much maybe, but that is a thought for another time.

She sighs. “That’s just hurtful, you know they were better than pretty good.”

“Please. I need your help.” The other woman whines on the line and she’s a goner.

“Fine.” She concedes, grabbing a gun and clipping it to her belt. “How do you want to handle this?”

So much for a quiet day off.

Turns out Harley has something going on no child should ever see or hear about and Montoya is out of town, so Cassandra got parked at Dinah’s for the day. The singer has some sort of hangup about being bad at dealing with her on her own, which is total bullshit, but here they are.

She turns with her bike in the by now familiar side street and parks it near the building’s back entrance. When she knocks at the apartment door it’s the little pickpocket herself that opens up with a large bowl of cereal in hand, already having made herself at home.

“Hi ‘Lena.”

“Hi kid, how’s it going?”

“Same old, same old.” Cass turns to walk back to the blaring tv. “Hey, is it true you shot Joe “Curly” Bandano in the nose?”

Helena isn’t surprised the story is already starting to make the rounds, Gotham has its own kind of gossip, less concerned with celebrity couples or breakups and usually read about in the newspaper obituaries.

“He moved at the last moment, I was aiming at his head.” She answers distractedly while looking around for their host.

“Makes sense.” The girl mumbles around a spoonful of lucky charms. “She’s in the kitchen.”

As on cue Dinah steps out of that room and offers her a warm mug. She gratefully grabs the coffee from her and takes a sip, confident it’s already how she likes it.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Didn’t sound like I had much of a choice.”

Their body language, the casual way she knows where to hang her leather jacket when she slips out of it, everything speaks of how the two of them have been in each other's lives for a while now. Always vigilant from her perch on the couch Cassandra Cain takes notice and files the information away for later.

“So, what we doing today? Cartoons are almost over.” She perks up, shattering their little moment.

“How about we check out the new amusement park uptown? Rich assholes live around there, so it’s all high end and looked after. No junkies in sight.”

The girl nods pensively. “Could be fun…”

“Wow, that’s some overwhelming enthusiasm over there.”

She grins and shrugs. “No, no, I’m in. Let’s go! Can I ride with Helena?”

“Sorry, I have only one helmet with me.”

“So what? I don’t need one.”

The singer shakes her head and pulls her up from her seat. “We take my car.”

“Lame!”

There’s a stark contrast between the neighborhoods they usually frequent and the one they are driving towards. Gradually the buildings they pass by start to be less run down, the streets cleaner and there’s even a cop car or two around. 

The park is surrounded by a colorful wooden fence and packed with people loudly having fun. There are small booths with different games setups, loudspeakers alternate between cheery music and announcements about this and that, but before they can even take a proper look around Cass insists that they should start with the rollercoaster that is zooming around over the crowd and starts dragging them in that direction.

“Come on! We don’t have all day!!” She yelps, elbowing her way forward.

“But we do! We literally have all day.” An amused Huntress tries to tell her, but is still swept along towards the admission stand. 

After they ride that a few times they stumble towards the high striker (“You know Harley has a giant hammer too? I think she stole it from one of these things!”), which Helena lets them both beat her at even though it’s pretty clear she could easily top their meager scores and then it’s off to the devil’s wheel. Teenager energy is no joke, they quickly discover.

“You guys want some cotton candy?” Cass asks casually when they walk out the latest attraction. She’s rummaging around a man’s leather billfold, Dinah catches sight of it and sighs.

“Whose wallet is that, Cassandra?”

“Ehm…” She turns the thing over to check the driver’s license. “Carlos… Ruiz?”

The woman snatches it away from her, but the girl doesn’t seem too broken up about it. “You like it? You can keep it if you want, I was done anyway.”

“It’s not what this is about, and you know it!”

“Hey, you brought me to - and I quote - where rich assholes live. What were you expecting?”

Helena chuckles walking beside them, but mostly taking in the lively grounds and happy families strolling around. “Yeah Dinah, what were you expecting?” She comments lost in thought, but all it takes is for the Canary to look over and give her one furious stare and the brunette instantly falters and murmurs an apology under her breath. 

So much for the big bad assassin.

Returning her attention to Cass, Dinah holds out her hand. “Give!”

“What?”

“Give! Now!”

With a heavy sigh the girl starts to empty out her pockets, producing a few more wallets, two watches and a gold ring. When the hell did she even have time to pull that all together?

They (mostly Dinah) try to have a serious talk with her and at first she takes it pretty well, giving a contrite look down to her feet and saying she won’t do it again, but it’s clear she’s just humoring them. Stealing is what she is good at and how she survived this long, it’s what she does. 

Running around with Harley all the time probably doesn’t help much. When they are finished she even has the gall to suggest that since it’s already done, they might as well spend the cash.

“Well…” They exchange a look. It’s not like they are complete sticklers for the rules either.

“I think that maybe…” The assassin starts tentatively. 

“Oh what the hell.” The singer blurts out and reaches inside.

In the end they take some money to buy candy, a monstrous and unhealthy amount of it, but leave everything else where it can easily be found. The rest is up to the owners and fancy park security.

Settling down after that they wander towards the games and try a few. Dinah’s terrible at pretty much all of them, which leads to a very competitive Cass having the time of her life beating her at every single one while riding her sugar high.

“Yeehaw!” She hurls another dart towards the balloons and pops her third one. “Boom, 10 points. I’m Deadshot!” 

The older woman shakes her head and laughs at the girls glee, but when she then starts to menacingly poke at her with her finger during her turn she decides it’s time to even out the playing field a bit.

She gives her a devilish smirk and calls out: “Helena! Help please!”

The look of surprise and horror on Cass’ face is almost comical. “What? No! That’s cheating!”

“I mean…” The Canary grins, passing her remaining darts over to the tall brunette walking over from the Whack-A-Mole machines. “That’s debatable. What do you think?”

The Huntress shrugs. “You know, sometimes life is unfair…”

“Well said.”

Unsurprisingly Helena wins her honor back by absolutely destroying. Every single throw is a hit, she even manages to get two balloons at the same time with a flick of her wrist.

Needless to say, Cassandra deflates and starts to mope about them ganging up on her.

“That was playing dirty! I mean, you are adults, you can’t just do stuff like that.”

“Don’t be sad young lady, you can always try again.” A cheery carnival worker tells her, opening up his arms wide. “What will it be? A few more darts or something from our amazing prizes?”

With her impressive amount of points Helena chooses to get two medium sized stuffed animals instead of one of the giant ones, a koala and a rabbit, and holds them out to the other two with a wink. Cass, all her woes forgotten, jumps to hug her around her legs, while Dinah gives her a small kiss on the cheek she keeps feeling for hours after.

They stay around a while longer, walking through the fun house mirror gallery and a garish haunted house that doesn’t scare them in the least, then decide to take a break and just stroll around for a bit as the sun starts to set. 

It’s starting to get chilly and Dinah bundles herself up more in her thin jacket. Helena gives her a questioning nod towards her own, should she need it, but she just shakes her head thanking her with a soft smile.

“So…” Cassandra drawls after following the wordless exchange, “What’s the deal, are you two like together now?” 

Helena’s eyes go wide and she awkwardly clears her throat. “Ehm, no… I mean yes. W-we’ve done a few missions together now, disrupted a ring of heroin dealers down by the harbor and stopped a kidnapping. Renee’s in it too, she wants to give the group a name or something.” She stammers.

A very confused Cassandra looks over to Dinah, who just shrugs with an exasperated smile. 

That topic is… a work in progress. She’s pretty sure Helena is just pretending not to understand the question, like 80% sure. She’s gotten pretty familiar with all other woman’s evasion tactics by now and uncontrollable word vomit is definitely one of the dorkiest ones.

Plus who is she to judge, she doesn’t know how to answer either if she’s being honest. How do you define their relationship of nighttime crime fighting and biweekly get togethers in which they gradually inch closer to each other on the couch, but never really get completely intimate?

Except frustrating, that is.

“How about the ferris wheel, before we turn in?” She tries to change the subject.

As soon as the singer walks away to get them tickets for the ride Cass punches Helena in the side as hard as she can. The hit still bounces off like she’s made of steel, but it’s to make a point. “What the hell, dude?”

“What?” The brunette asks confused looking around. “What did I do?”

“She’s clearly waiting for you to make a move!”

The assassin splutters turning to quickly make sure Dinah hasn’t heard her.

“Where’s the hang up?” The girl insists, trying and failing to shake her. “Spill!”

“The thing is..” She starts trying to find the right words, “She’s so beautiful…” 

“Yeah,” Cass nods sagely, “Major hottie. I have eyes.”

“And I’m…” Helena continues letting the phrase hang.

“And you are the freaking Huntress! You battle the forces of evil hand to hand and eat monsters for breakfast. Get with the program, bitch.”

“Cassandra!” She scolds her weakly. “Language, come on.” 

Cass scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

Ok fine, maybe they are way past that point. Maybe her life has really come down to getting relationship advice from a kleptomaniac teenager. “I don’t know what to do.” She confesses with a sigh.

“Ask - her - out!” The girl chants pushing her finger against her side with each word.

“I’m… But what if she..”

“Shutupshe’scomingback!” 

They immediately turn around and do their best to look casual, like rascals caught doing something bad. Dinah gives them a curious look, shrugs and holds the tickets up. “Ready?”

“Yes!”

It’s been a long day and as they look out over the illuminated skyline of Gotham it starts to catch up to them. Cass’ eyes start to droop a bit and while they may make fun of her during the drive back, it’s not even an hour later when they are all lying equally exhausted on the couch watching a movie. That’s where Harley eventually finds them, fast asleep.

“What do we have here?” She murmurs with a grin taking in the scene. Ready to announce herself with a memorable and very noisy entrance a moment ago, she immediately adjusts and crosses the small apartment on her tippy toes. 

She reaches over to her apprentice’s shoulder and shakes her a little bit, but sushes her when she starts to make disgruntled noises. With a finger firmly planted on her lips she helps her to disentangle herself from the pile of limbs and ruffles her hair.

“So how was your day?”

"We went to a kickass amusement park," The sleepy teenager yawns. "but these two are being stubborn and stupid. Why can't they kiss already? Everybody knows"

“Mmh, you know what?” The harlequin tells her with a wink. “Sometimes all you need is a little... tiny... push.” With equal care not to wake anybody she lifts Helena’s arm from where it’s curled up on the backrest and moves it over, to plop her hand down right on Dinah’s boob.

“Now that’s what I call a conversation starter.” She cackles, then realizing how loud she has just spoken slaps her hands over her mouth and gestures Cass to run for her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CONTENT: 
> 
> Helena, with her face tomato red: “I swear Dinah, I didn’t do it on purpose, I was asleep!! Plus I usually don’t move that much while sleeping either, so I really don’t know how to explain what happened. I am so sorry, it will never ever happen again, you have my word… I-I’ll go, I’ll see myself out. Just… Sorry. So so sorry.” *Stumbles her way towards the door.*
> 
> Dinah: “Don’t worry about it. :3”


	5. Chapter 5

It's finally the Black Canary's big opening night, and of course Helena has plans to be there.

The place she settled on as her new stage is a classy LGBT joint in Gotham Heights which she described as both exiting and completely safe, so pretty much the opposite of Black Mask's horrible club. The pay is better too, which the assassin thinks isn't that important a factor compared to Dinah's happiness, but she is still adamant in her plan to pay back every penny of the loan between them so Helena just shuts up and nods along when subject comes up.

For having the event prominently circled on her calendar for a week now Huntress has very little time to get there however, streetlights zipping rapidly overhead as she pushes her bike to the max and recklessly swerves from lane to lane. She trained even longer than usual that evening, hoping desperately to work off some of that nervous energy that's keeping her up lately, those messy feelings she doesn't have words for and can't seem to shake. She can't be late, not today.

Coming to a screeching stop she hears music even from outside the colorful building, mostly a rhythmic bass line she can feel deep in her guts. She closes her helmet away under the bike's seat, tries to comb her unruly hair back into place and quickly approaches the door trying to project a confidence she doesn't really feel. Past the bouncer it's intermittent lights, shrill chatter and bodies pressing up against each other, which she expected but still flees away from in favor of the quiet bar in the back.

"What can I get you, hun?"

"A negroni please."

The bartender, a woman maybe ten years her senior with wavy dark blonde hair, gives her an obvious once over as she fishes a bottle out from under the counter and goes to work. It's hard to decipher the meaning behind it, so she quickly sneaks a self conscious look down at her simple black t-shirt and leather jacket. This place is definitely miles outside her comfort zone, hopefully she isn't sticking out like a sore thumb or something.

"You're Helena right?"

"Yes?" The vigilante's instincts immediately kick into high gear and any doubt about her fashion choices is put aside while she check in the reflective surfaces around her if there's somebody sneaking up. At the same time her right hand inches slowly towards the heavy ashtray on her left.

Is she about to have a fight and ruin Dinah's debut?

No, she just gets a hum and a smile. "Thought so. Canary mentioned you would be swinging by."

Helena shakes off the tension, but frowns slightly. "She talks about me?"

"All the freaking time." The woman laughs as she reaches for some ice.

She pushes the finished drink over and the brunette promptly goes for her wallet, but again she's confronted with a strange, motherly look and a shake of the bartender's head. "It's on the house. Have a nice night and let me know if you need anything else.”

“T-thank you.”

A moment later Helena catcher her whisper something to a colleague and they both look over at her. She bristles under the attention, unsure what to make of it.

This is exactly why she avoids social gatherings, people are so freaking weird all the time, with their social cues and implied attitudes all over the place. She can't make heads or tails about it on her best day, so she takes a sip and decides to simply turn the back to them all.

People watching is something she's always liked to do, finding it suiting in its similarity with stake outs, and this place offers a plethora of interesting individuals to study. Many of the patrons are colorful and bold in how they dress and style themselves: A young man in a leather vest over a naked chest is narrating animatedly for his grinning friends while nearby a girl is clumsily trying to chat up a beautiful amazon in fishnets twice her age. Moments later a roller derby team makes their triumphant arrival, some still wearing their skates and clamoring for shots to celebrate a victory. Loud lives she could never imagine for herself and yet finds strangely fascinating from afar.

Continuing on, her eyes meet those of a pretty redhead across the room and to her utter horror the woman shoots her a suggestive smirk and slides off her seat. Oh god! Huntress quickly swivels her stool around, but that doesn't seem to discourage the woman from making her way over and leaning in near her elbow.

"Hi, I'm Iliana.” She introduces herself brazenly, “I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

“Helena.” She answers politely, making sure she in no way encourages her to continue. Being rude is bad, her brand of rude can sometimes even lead to fights, but how do you tell somebody politely to beat it? Every time she asks her teammates they just burst into laughter instead of being helpful.

"So are you new to the city, Helena?"

Not for the first time in the last few months she thinks back fondly to the days she would stalk the Gotham rooftops like a ghost and nobody even knew she was alive. Those where the days.

"Mh... Not really. I just don't go out much." She stutters pathetically. “Or at all.”

“Too bad. But maybe you just need a guide to show you all the best spots. What do you think about that?”

Luckily the bartender from before seems to take pity on her and waves the redhead off when she walks by on the way to another customer. "You are barking up the wrong tree doll, this one's taken."

The girl seems surprised and disappointed by that, pouting visibly.

"Is that true?"

Before she can answer (How would she even answer?), the woman behind the counter buts in again and nods across the dance floor. "Her girlfriend's about to start her set right now."

Like on cue the lights dim everywhere else in the club, making those around Dinah flare up even brighter. The golden dress she's chosen to wear sparkles like a thousand little stars as she steps forward from the shadows between the massive amplifiers on stage and reaches for the vintage style microphone ready to captivate the audience.

“I hope you're having a pleasant evening,” She drawls with a practiced smirk, “I'm the Black Canary and I'm going to entertain you for the next hour or so. So quiet down for a bit and enjoy.”

At some point after that the woman, Iliana's her name, must finally accept defeat and wandered off, but Helena couldn't honestly tell you when, she's watching with rapt attention as her friend dominates the crowd. Her voice is like honey, her every move like a dance. Just a slight lean against the mike stand and one of her long shapely legs paints itself against her slit skirt, raising the temperature in the room several degrees.

How anybody could pull their eyes away is beyond her.

Glamour, that's the word.

Her songs are mostly vintage and suggestive, relics from the time of speakeasies and dangerous gangsters and dames. Even her rather audacious introduction works as suddenly everybody seems to feel ready to be transported into a black and white movie.

In the brief lull between two songs Helena turns to ask for a second drink to steady herself and when she returns her eyes front the Canary is looking right at her, giving her a private wink. After that the glass stays forgotten in her hands until the ice melts away completely.

Time seems to be flying by and soon Dinah give the audience a playful salute and steps down towards them. She gracefully keeping on the move she gets applause, compliments and eager greetings coming at her from all sides, but she walks right over to Helena to give her a brief hug.

“You came!”

An awestruck "Y-yes, hi." is all the assassin can come up as a response with at first.

"Hi yourself." Dinah grins a blinding smile.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it." She recovers, smiling back more as a mirror of the radiant woman in front of her than making the conscious decision to. The Canary's flushed and there's a thin sheen of sweat on her skin that makes her glow under the warm yellow lights of the club. She looks out of this world, Helena thinks, how did she end with a goddess like that in her life?

Clearing her throat she tries to keep the conversation going without looking like a creep. “I expected to see the others here as well?”

“I didn't tell them.” The singer shrugs, “Forgot to honestly.”

“Oh.”

"So listen, just let me freshen up a moment in the back, then I'll be with you for real. Is that alright with you? We can do whatever, but I have to get out of this dress."

Yes. "Take your time."

With a jovial squeeze to her arm Dinah pushes away again and towards a backstage door. Helena looks down to her glass, still with a stupid grin on her face.

What a day.

A few more moments pass and as she drinks her excitement starts to cool down, letting her normal thoughts trickle back in. She looks over to the exit, tapping her foot. This place is starting to rub her the wrong way, with his harsh lights and noises, but she tries to tough it out looking for a secluded spot she can maybe melt into for a little bit while she waits.

It's not panic per se that starts to creep up in the back of her mind, but definitely unease.

To calm herself down she tries to drum her fingers on the counter and focuses on her breathing. Nothing to worry about, not every chaotic environment hides an ambush, she reasons. Not having complete control doesn't mean loosing all control, the worst thing that can happen is that she has to make some small talk again. She can do that. Not having complete control doesn't mean loosing all control. Not having complete control doesn't mean...

"You can just go back there, you know?"

"What?" She startles.

It's the blonde bartender, leaning towards her a bit worried. "You seem stressed. I said you can go join Canary backstage if you want, just tell any security you meet I said it was ok."

"Oh. Thanks." She feels a bit guilty accepting, because the woman is probably just offering because she thinks Dinah and her are dating, but gifted horses and all that, so she leaves a hefty tip as a way to clean he conscience and makes her way towards the doorway the singer disappeared in.

\- - -

Behind the scenes the club isn't a large building, just a few dingy corridors with stacked up crates of booze, employee bathrooms and a row of peeling doors. There's a small whiteboard nailed to each one, “Black Canary” written on one in sharpie, so listens for a moment then knocks.

"Yes?"

"Dinah, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Hi." She unlocks the changing room and again, that radiant smile. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Yes." She's answers honestly and a bit too quickly. Dinah looks at her a bit taken aback by her eagerness, but she tries to explain before it can be misconstrued as somehow not wanting to hang out with her. She very much wants to, that should be clear. "You where wonderful, amazing really, it's just this place. A lot of people, noise... It's a bit much.”

“Are you good?”

“Yes, don't worry, just... there's this woman, I think she tried to flirt with me.” She tells her in a whisper looking helpless. “Sorry. I need a bit of quiet.”

Dinah burst out laughing and takes her by the arms, almost a hug again, but not quite."Nothing to be sorry about, H. It makes it that much more significant that you came."

“If you're not ready yet I can maybe take a walk and come back later... I really don't mind.”

“No, no, I'm with you.”

A moment of silence falls between them.

"You know, your new coworkers think we are together." What the hell? Why did she tell her? Why would she bring that up right now? Stupid Helena, she admonishes herself, now they'll have to talk about it and everything will get awkward.

Dinah tilts her head. She knows she shouldn't read too much into it, not let herself get too hopeful with Huntress, but she's still riding the high of the performance and that always makes her a bit forward so she decides to push her luck a bit.

"Oh yeah? What did you tell them?" She asks, turning as to gather her coat.

"I..." She'll find out about it anyway, so the assassin decides she might as well confess and get it over with. "I didn't correct them. Sorry, but like I said, there was this girl..."

The singer smirks. "Mmh, me neither."

"Oh."

Silence again, with the promise of something more.

"Need me to spell it out for you?" Dinah asks after a moment.

"No." She scoffs, internally panicking like never before. "I'm not as clueless as you all make me out to be. It's frankly a bit insulting at time..." Then her words peter out and she looks around trying to decide what to do next, but she can feel the other woman trying to suppress a grin, so she waves her hands in the air. "Shut up."

She giggles and she leans in closer. Her finger ghost along Helena's belt line.

"You know I love that your costume has a crop top? I've imagined doing this..." She slips a warm hand under her shirt in the back, sliding up her strong back. Tense muscles move against each other, crisp and defined. "..quiet a bit, but never had the guts to."

"It's not a costume. It's my combat gear." She shoots back in complete seriousness.

"Excuse me, you purple combat gear."

A teasing smile.

Helena shakes her head trying to battle the increasing short circuit in her mind, but smiles. It's starting to hurt from how much she's doing that lately. It's new, but not necessarily a bad thing.

"Are you sure we are on the same page, H?"

She nods. "Pretty sure."

"So are you going to kiss me or not?"

That does it. She leans forward and kisses her out of spite, just to shut her up for once.

Oh who's she kidding, that's not the reason at all. She kisses her because she's not thought of anything else for weeks, months. Kisses her like her life depended on it, softly reaching up to the back of her neck to make sure she won't disappear like a dream now that it's finally happening.

A long moment passes as they melt against each other, lips locked until all the air is gone.

“Yup, that's the right page.”

The vigilante shoves her playfully, with an uncharacteristic giggle. “Don't make me regret this.”

As is he could. They kiss again, Dinah's hand sliding up further under her shirt, snaking around with a similar urgency to not let her go, pushing her back towards the old armchair in the room, to climb on her lap and keep kissing her for long quiet minutes.

When they finally run out of there frazzled and hand in hand the bartender waves at them.

"Have fun you crazy kids! See you Friday Dinah."

\- - -

It's almost morning in Helena's apartment. The assassin is laying with her arms wide open and her eyes closed on the messy bed, at peace at long last. Dinah is nuzzled against her side, gently caressing her naked leg as the first birds start to sing from outside the blinds.

"I just need to know one thing, H. This isn't a one time deal right?"

Just slightly turning her head, she asks quietly, "What do you mean?"

"You know sometimes when people have a few, they get loose and get lost in the moment, so do things that aren't necessary what they would in normal circumstances... then the sun raises, they sober up and everything is..."

"I had one and a half drinks, Dinah."

"That's not what I'm asking."

This insecurity is foreign to her, but this entire thing feels different. From the death of her mother onward she's lived her life like a series of meaningless experiences lined up without care, just trying to get to the next day, the next week, make some money, fill the pantry and get on, but now it's different. Bringing down Sionis, the Birds of Prey and more than anything Helena are not meaningless.

They have weight. They are real. Thy are a path to … something.

Luckily the woman in question turns around to face her before she can go too much off the rails. "It's not a one time thing."

"Good."

"I could never regret this.” She gives her a soft smile, reaching out to brush a way a strand of wandering hair from her face. “Not in a million years."

"Good." She repeats with a matching tone, then pushes herself up. "'cause I'm not done here."

"Oh?"

"You heard me."

“I have to text Cass though.”

“Do it later, weirdo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and sorry for the wait, I wanted to bang out this fic quickly between projects, but then this entire situation got me a bit hung up and unable to write something I could be proud of so I put the last chapter on the back burner for a while until it felt right. Now it does.


End file.
